Hurricane
by SniperR
Summary: This is just some random story inspired by Matthew and Legault's B suport Convo. R & R!


SniperR: I know, Legault is a thief and not an assassin, but if you read Legault's B support with Matthew.....

I do NOT own Fire Emblem, said game belongs to Nintendo. Trust me, If I created this game, every character would die. Including Hector's brother! (Die XD) Sorry, long time grudge against his for making me go to that desert! I hated that deset! :  
FYI: If you want to sue me, try it! I have 32 cents and a bottle cap. Good luck.

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Inspired by Legault and Matthew's B support convo.  
  
My job is simple.  
  
I kill.  
  
That's what I'm supposed to do. I clean the houses of the betrayers, leave no one alive to tell. I may not be strong, or the best, but it's what I do. No one sees me coming, I'm like a shadow in the night, blending in with the thousands of others just like me. They call me the Hurricane. Maybe because I'm about as predictable as one.  
  
My name is Legault, I am an assasin.  
  
--  
  
The residence was quiet, almost too quiet. The woman and child were to sleep and the man, awake watching the fire. Sleep was slowly creeping over him. His lids were beginning to fall slowly, despite the caffeine he drank trying to keep himself awake.  
  
"I can't fall asleep.... they'll... come... for me...." A light thud when he hit the soft cusions of the sofa. The fire cracked quietly as the man slept peacefuly.  
  
Outside, watching through the window, was the Hurricane. With a smile he crept towards the door. Using his lockpick the door gently creaked open to reveal the warm glow of the fire. He walked as quietly as a mouse across the floor to the sleeping man. It amusing how he had tried to stay awake, despite the fact he knew he couldn't. The assasin had been watching him and counting his sleepless nights. Six in all, seven if he had made it through the night.  
  
The man's dark green-blue hair shone in the fire's light. Behind his closed lids where beautiful purple eyes. Legault had always admired those eyes, but now he had to make sure they never opened again. His hands slipped to his daggers and he held the hilts firmly in each hand. The blades shone gold and silver as he unsheathed them.  
  
The man stirred and sat up yawning. All he saw was the shimmer of fire on metal and everything went black.  
  
Legault watched as the crimson liquid coated the floor. He stepped back to avoid his shoes absorbing the blood. He was not a clean freak, it was just he didn't want to be identified.  
  
He crept up the stairs to the second floor.  
  
This house was familiar to him. The second floor was a small box shaped room with three doors. One led to the bedroom of the parents, the second to the child's and the third....  
  
His ears pricked, he heard shuffling noises. He slipped into the third room but left the door open a crak to see whom it was disturbing his work. The wife was up and walking. Legault followed her at a safe distance down the stairs and she left the house to go to the outhouse. Legault devised a course of action for ridding himself of the rest of the family. He waited until the misses returned. Following her up the stairs, he joined her in her room.  
  
"The funny thing," He thought, "is that she doesn't know I'm here." He approached as she slipped back into bed and, seizing his opportunity, cut her throat. She made a simple whining noize as the tan sheets turned red. He congradulated himself on a job well done.  
  
He felt guilty killing her, she was so beautiful. Long purple hair, emerald green eyes of a Sacaen. She was... striking.  
  
Legault turned and headed for the room of the young one. He crept in slowly and froze when he saw the figure standing and staring at him. His small voice was barely audible in the deafening silence. He lit a candle and his features showed clearly in the pale golden light. His cheeks were caved in slightly and his face was pale. Legault remembered him being sick, but never this bad. His frame was very bony. He had the same dark blue-green hair as his father and the emerald green eyes of his mother. Those eyes Legault had also admired.  
  
"Legault?" He asked. Legault blinked momentarily, stunned. He didn't like killing the child, and now he had to do so when the child himself was awake!  
  
"...Yes..."  
  
"What's going on? Why are you here? I thought you were with those people."  
  
"I am, I just have business to attend to." Legault would tell the kid his motives, but not unless he was asked.  
  
"What business?"  
  
"Finishing off this family." The boys eyes widened. He ran down the hall to his parents' bedroom and found his mother dead on her bed. He crawled to her.  
  
"Mother? Mother!!" He cried into her soft clothes, still warm with her dying life. Legault unsheathed his daggers slowly, trying to kill the boy on the sly, to save him torment.  
  
".... Dae?" Legault had a few final words for the boy first, though.  
  
"You have to kill me too, don't you?" Legault had to admit, for only nine years old the boy was smart. Legault nodded his head solemly. Dae turned to Legault, eyes welling with tears. The fear he felt of this man was unlike any he felt before.  
  
"I'm sorry Dae. I'll make this as painless as possible."  
  
"I'm glad to die by your hands, Legault. Can... can you bury me in the backyard, under the tree?"  
  
"Of course." Legault felt pity for the lad, he was so young. Legault took his dagger to the boy's neck. Before he killed him he spoke one last time.  
  
"Don't be afraid Dae. Death is the ultimate liberation. You die with honor, your blood will be spilt by the best assassin the Black Fang has. I'm gracing you with my group's name because you will die, and will never be able to repeat it to anyone. Goodbye Dae." Dae smiled one last time despite his horrific situation and closed his eyes. Legault jolted the dagger across the boy's neck. Dae wobbled slightly before falling ang being caught by Legault.  
  
Legault stepped into the fresh night air with Dae in his arms. He found the tool shed and removed a shovel. With it he dug Dae a neat grave under the tree, and inscribed his name onto the tree.  
  
Legault finished his job in silence. He did not congradulate himself on another job well done. He, in fact, did not want to do this job. He had been against it since he learned the name of the family he had to kill.  
  
Legault walked a few paces before turning back to the grave.  
  
He stole one last gaze at the grave. Legault felt a pang of guilt. To say the truth, he had always been jealous of Dae's innocence. Legault would have wished to spare Dae, but now it was too late.  
  
Dae was dead, Legault had murdered his little brother.  
  
---  
  
My life is to kill, to kill is my life. I am not the Angel of Death but I am a killer none the less.  
  
My name is Legault.  
  
I am the Hurricane.  
  
Fin

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R & R please!!!!!


End file.
